


Spoils of War

by cecilantro



Series: 100 Days Of Ficlets [42]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 20:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14268684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecilantro/pseuds/cecilantro
Summary: “Hands off what’s mine!” A spit curse in InfernalMolly pulls Beau to her feet by the scruff of her collar, manhandles her upright, she snarls at him at first and it drops away when he throws both scimitars to one hand and wraps the blade-less arm around her shoulders, hard. Becausemineapplies to her, too.





	Spoils of War

**Author's Note:**

> Molly and Beau have such a good dynamic i love it so much... MOLLY CARES ABOUT BEAU SO MUCH!!!

There’s the taste of blood on Caleb’s tongue, it’s so strange to associate it with something other than fear. Molly’s teeth, surprisingly, are hard to avoid when kissing him too hard, he’s pretty sure they’re both bleeding now, he draws away, gasping, swipes his tongue against the shallow gash.   
“Nice.” Beau’s up and beside Caleb and pulling, “Now move.”   
And then the fear is back and them world isn’t just Molly and Caleb any more, it’s Molly, Caleb, the rest of the Nein, and a very angry-looking band of dark elves in soft, black leather armor, cruel points and all. They’ve tried to reason with them, it’s no use- Caleb turns in time to watch Yasha parry away a low sweep, her greatsword too slow and clumsy to keep up with most speeds of their opponents, but lucky for that one.   
Jester is at her side in seconds, seconds, seconds, though she favours her hand-axe now, her sickle makes a reappearance, she pulls it free of its ribbon ties with a hard tug and spins to glance away another quick stab toward Yasha. They spin away and Jester takes the second of respite to beam at Yasha, brightly, Yasha lifts one hand to her face and there’s a faint glow as she sets it to Jester’s cheek, Caleb and Beau see the cuts down her arm close and scab over.   
“Healing hands,” Caleb gasps out to Beau, they’re moving too fast for his lungs to keep up, “Healed her.”   
“No shit.” Beau looks from Caleb to over his shoulder and grimaces, jumps at him, the two of them let their momentum carry them in wheels and Molly is above them. He parries away the blade that would have hit Caleb’s chest if Beau hadn’t knocked him down and it’s like a dance, he moves so gracefully, pushes off at the blade against his own and when its wielder stumbles.   
“ _ Hands off what’s mine! _ ” A spit curse in Infernal, his opponent drops to their knees with a pained screech and claws at their own head, their helmet already long left behind.   
He turns in their distraction and pulls Beau to her feet by the scruff of her collar, manhandles her upright, she snarls at him at first and it drops away when he throws both scimitars to one hand and wraps the blade-less arm around her shoulders, hard. Because  _ mine _ applies to her, too.   
She shoves him off, ignores the way her hand rests a little too long on his shoulder, he turns and rams the hilt of his scimitar directly into the temple of the attacker, they’d recovered quickly, they won’t get up from this for a while, they slump aside and Molly takes their gnarled sword from their fingertips. When he turns back, Beau is off towards Yasha and Caleb is on his feet and they take off together.   
They collapse in together, Molly feels Nott scramble up his back to hop from his shoulder to Fjord’s, he’s the tallest and stillest of the group- Yasha may be a few inches up from him, but she moves too much for Nott to balance and get a good shot. And Molly is easier to climb than Fjord is, the group as a whole forms the climbing wall and Nott scales them easily, she curls her arm around the crown of Fjord’s head and steadies her hand, fires, a perfect shot into the eye hole of an armored assailant and they collapse immediately. Fjord whoops for her victory, it almost unsettles her but she knows him well by now and grabs at his hair to keep herself up.   
“Three are down.” Yasha reports, “Three up.”   
“Identical?” Molly bounces to her, and she nods, though he can’t see, adds a   
“Yes.” so that he knows, and Molly looks between the two he can see.   
“Nott, Fjord, deal with the one on the left.” Molly is moving as the words spill, he’s holding Caleb’s wrist and pulls hard to carry him along, “Yasha, Jester, the one I can’t see, Beau, with me-”   
Beau, never one to do what she’s told, jumps to Jester’s side instead, uses her as a vault, to Yasha’s shoulders, then up and she’s descending fast, their enemy's sword raises up to meet her and she re-arranges, almost easily, a foot to their shoulder and she moves into a mid-air crouch, drives her centre of gravity lower and throws all of her weight into knocking them down, when they hit the ground, she rolls, to her feet, Jester has run up when she turns around and there’s a giant, teal lollipop coming down on the dazed enemy’s head. A sickening crunch, and they stop moving, Yasha has already started moving away toward Molly and Caleb.   
Fjord sends out an Eldritch Blast, Nott follows a split second later with a crossbow bolt and their opponent crumples, Jester hears them cheer, Caleb and Molly spin back-to-back. They alternate between Molly’s blowback parries, and Caleb’s Fire Bolts, and the final blow is Yasha, her greatsword slips through flesh and bone like soft butter and there’s a quick spray of blood. Beau thanks whichever Gods are listening that she gets to watch, because it’s one of the  _ hottest _ things she’s ever seen.   
They regroup, huffing and heaving, and Jester goes between the most injured of them and heals them, annoyingly, by putting her whole hand over their face and chuckling through her incantations. It’s most amusing when she heals Yasha, her hands are already pretty small, and against Yasha’s long face they seem even tinier.    
Molly chuckles at her, they even catch a glimmer of a smile under Jester’s fingertips, when she’s done, Yasha meets Molly’s eyes first. Then, she leans over, careful as possible, and kisses the top of Jester’s head.   
Beau boils with jealousy, it’s almost funny the way that her jaw sets, Molly’s eyes dance with the unseen firelight of mirth at her self-restraint, he pulls Caleb with him as he shifts around to her and throws an arm around her shoulders.   
She turns to him, and if looks could kill, Molly wouldn’t even have made it to the astral plane. He leans in closer and tilts, Beau resists the urge to headbutt him, Caleb doesn’t hear what he mutters into her ear but when he draws back enough to speak to the group, the unshakable Beauregard is pink in the face and it’s not anger.   
“C’mon,” His voice carries and cuts distraction from the group, “Group victory hug.”   
Jester bounds up immediately, she sets herself to Molly’s chest, Beau has no choice in being tugged closer, Caleb’s arm works around Molly’s back and he sets, voluntarily, his other to Jester’s shoulders. Fjord takes a second longer, but does, eventually, move to stand slightly behind Caleb and bundle them all up. Molly’s face is squished between Beau and Jester’s, but he looks up to Yasha,   
“You too.” He says, it seems like a command but she knows better, a request, and puts her own issues aside to move in and slot between Beau and Fjord, it makes what is, essentially, a Jester sandwich, with a Nott on the top, still clinging to Fjord’s shoulder. Molly feels Jester sigh contentedly against his chest and smiles, warmth, he lets each of them untangle from the mess of limbs and relief and he looks at his own fingertips as Beau pulls free of them to Yasha’s side, they’re shaking and he gives a choked chuckle, bitterly amused at his own weakness. Caleb distracts him by pulling at his other arm until he turns his attention to the wizard, and then there’s lips pressed hard to his own and the taste of blood blossoms again, barely healed wounds reopening, they’d only just stopped bleeding. Molly doesn’t mind, he doubts Caleb does, either, the way there’s fingers tangling enthusiastically in the hair at the base of his neck and pulling until Molly gives in, tilts his chin back and lets Caleb take out his excess energy and frustration and glee at the victory in a series of new marks down his neck and to his collarbone. He’d laugh, he thinks, if he wasn’t caught up in the whirlwind of sensation and totally distracted.   
  
Beau sticks to Yasha on her retreat, Jester trails and, carefully, slips her fingers between Beau’s. She’s so shocked, that for a moment, she forgets she’s jealous and bitter and stops still, jester takes the opportunity to cuddle up to her arm, there’s the knock of horn to Beau’s shoulder, and shit, she’s gay. The only word that her brain could come up with was  _ fuck _ , emphatically and on repeat, she must say it out loud at some point because Yasha approaches, frowning with concern,   
“Are you okay?” Beau hears Yasha’s voice, distant, and she looks slowly, her vision seems to lag a second behind her eyes.    
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” And Yasha comes up and pulls her in, a one-armed hug that tugs Jester along with her, Yasha drapes her other arm over Jester’s shoulder. Beau huffs, tension she didn’t realise she was holding seeps away under Yasha’s warmth and she lets her head loll against Yasha’s shoulder. It takes so much energy to lift and loop the arm that Jester  _ isn’t _ attached to around Yasha’s waist and feel the strain and pull of the muscle in her back every time she moves even slightly, the tighten down her spine when she squeezes Beau and Jester, very gently.    
“I’m glad you’re back, Yasha.” Jester’s voice is a little squashed and muffled, owing to her place on Beau’s shoulder and against Yasha’s cloak, feathers threaten to fill her mouth when she opens it, and Yasha chuckles warmly from somewhere above her.   
“Did you think that I wouldn’t be?”   
“Well, yeah.” It’s Beau’s chip, “Molly said y’would, but you kinda get used to people promisin’ shit and droppin it the second they get a chance to get away.”   
“Oh.” Yasha seems shocked, disheartened, “No.”    
Beau looks up to her, she feels a twinge of guilt that she’s responsible for the sadness in Yasha’s tone, she’s frowning when Beau meets her eyes.   
“I go when I am called, but I always come home to Molly,” She lifts her hand from the bare skin of Beau’s midriff to wiggle her fingers to the accused. He wiggles back, with great strain, Caleb’s teeth are at his collarbone and he’s more than a little distracted. Yasha replaces her hand to Beau’s skin, “And I like you. And Jester.”   
Beau squints at the phrasing, the subtle implication of  _ Beau and Jester  _ specifically, even though Beau has seen the amicable way that Yasha sits next to Caleb in respectful silence, Yasha catches her eye and a pale pink flush begins to spread from her cheeks to her nose.   
“ _ Fuck. _ ” Beau’s brain helpfully supplies and she pushes herself onto her tiptoes and it takes so much effort, she has to pull her arm an inch free of Jester’s embrace and she’s still not quite tall enough, it’s lucky that the same thought seems to cross Yasha’s mind and she sinks down the last little bit to meet Beau’s lips and change the internal chorus of  _ fuck _ to an internal chorus of  _ fucking finally _ . Jester rubs her cheek to Beau’s shoulder like a cat,   
“Hey, what about me?”   
“Sh.” Beau breaks away momentarily and pats quickly at Jester with the back of the hand caught in her grip, “In a minute.” and goes back to kissing Yasha. When she’s satisfied there, she turns instead to Jester and shakes her arm free, uses the newfound freedom to take the back of Jester’s head and kiss her, too.   
Fjord sits aside, his arms crossed, Nott stands beside him and pats his shoulder comfortingly,    
“You know, I’m sure that Caleb and Molly would let you in if you asked.” She knows more from Caleb than he does, he misses her knowing inflection and exhales heavily,   
“Naw, I think I’ll let ‘em get on with what they’re doin’, they’re just celebrating their victory.” he shakes his head and drops his gaze to the ground instead of watching, he has to force his eyes to stay there when Molly gives a quiet peep of a whine, and Nott flumps to sit beside him.   
“It’ll be alright, Fjord.” She tells him, sagely, hearing such a wise voice from such a small person is odd to say the least, and Fjord gives a hum,   
“It already is.”

**Author's Note:**

> MOLLY AND BEAU CARE ABOUT ONE ANOTHER *SO FUCKING MUCH AAAAA*  
> Beau runs toward an enemy and Molly tells her "don't go so far that we cant reach you"  
> fuckin everything goes to shit and beau goes "Molly..."  
> Some fuck tries to stab beau and Molly pops a blood vessel for Blood Maledict to fuck him over, then  
> "Someone deal with Beau!"  
> Come on. tell me im wrong. Tell me Molly wouldn't die for her. I dare you coward.
> 
> anyway im luke im gay and if you wanna talk to me hmu on twitter @Alpha_Geminorum


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